She was ushered into the back of the squad car. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. ‘Shocked you, have I? We weren’t mealy-mouthed in my day, my boy. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. How would it serve Nicholas to keep the truth from his daughter? A tiny thread of disquiet troubled him.
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